


Parental(s)

by Sherlockian_87



Series: Alphabet Soup [26]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Sherlolly, F/M, Fluffy, Molly has the Holmes boys wrapped around her finger, Molly is a BAMF, Mythea if you squint, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock's mum and dad, Sherlock's parents - Freeform, Smut, doesn't exactly make an appearance, it gets smutty towards the end, moreso in mention, what a shocker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlockian_87/pseuds/Sherlockian_87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has never met Sherlock's parents, and is surprised to learn that Molly knows them quite well. (established Sherlolly)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parental(s)

**Author's Note:**

> I started this way back in October last year and it has sat upon my computer since. I’ve come back to it from time to time and added a bit here and there, but for the most part I really struggled as where to take it. So finally I sat down and just wrote whatever came to me and well this is the result. I had no intentions of this becoming smutty but as in the words of the ever articulate Sherlock Holmes: ‘That just sort of happened.’

* * *

**P – Parental(s)**

* * *

Their voices drifted down the stairs, becoming more or less muffled by the closing of the door, as Sherlock walked away from it, with a slight grimace on his face. John gave him a questioning look and opened his mouth to speak. He stopped though when he suddenly heard another voice join in; a voice that belonged to one Molly Hooper.

"Oh hello Violet, Siger!" she said.

John's mouth dropped open farther, his eyes widening to an almost comical size. Sherlock conveniently avoided his gaze. The voices died away, replaced with the sound of a single pair of footsteps coming up the stairs. Molly walked in, unwinding her colourful scarf.

"Hello John! I didn't know you were here!" she said to him.

He gaped at her like a fish, opening and closing his mouth.

"Everything all right?" She was frozen in the doorway, not even making her usual move to kiss Sherlock hello.

John finally found his voice. "You, you know his parents?"

She bit down on her bottom lip before giving a quick glance towards Sherlock. "Uhh, yeah."

"How? I've never met them, not once," John said. "This is the first I've ever really heard of or seen them."

She stepped further into the flat, shutting the door behind her before turning to Sherlock and exclaiming loudly, "You were awfully rude, making them leave so quickly like that! And not even properly introducing them to John. Your lack of manners is appalling sometimes!"

Sherlock merely gave a shrug in reply and took up his violin, slightly miffed that she didn't seem intent on kissing him. John still stood there, waiting for her answer. She turned back towards him, her coat and scarf now in her hands.

"I went and stayed with them … after …  _The Fall_ ," she explained slowly. ".… Mycroft brought me to their home."

John reared back as if he had been punched. "I thought you went to Cardiff." His fingers were fidgeting.

"That was a front," she stated. 'Mycroft didn't want anyone to know where I had actually gone. Didn't want to arouse suspicion."

John clenched his hand then released it. "Oh. Right. That makes sense."

"I thought you knew, I thought Sherlock had told you, after he came back."

The pair of them looked towards Sherlock. His back was conveniently turned and he was plucking at the strings of his violin.

"They're really quite lovely," she noted.

"Ordinary," Sherlock cut in.

She shot at a glare at his back. "You'd like them, John. I'll be sure to make Sherlock introduce you; they'll be in London for the week. We're actually meeting them for dinner and show tonight."

John shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying to come to terms with the fact that Sherlock would actually manage to do either one of those things. He cleared his throat. "Did it help? Staying with them?"

Even though she wasn't looking directly at Sherlock, she could see that his back had stiffened slightly at John's question.

She nodded. "Yeah, it did. It really did."

"So … the two of you …" John gestured first to Molly then to Sherlock. "You were together before … all of  _that_?"

"No," she admitted.

John tilted his head to the side. "Oh. I just thought, since you went to stay with his parents …"

She shook her head. "No. It wasn't like that. Mycroft thought that it would be the safest and smartest thing to do; take me away for a little while. He thought I would be too vulnerable, that I was at risk of telling everyone the truth."

Sherlock let out an indignant sniff, and spun about as he played a harsh note on his violin. "That's because he doesn't know you like I do. I trusted you; I knew that you would be able to keep my secret. It was entirely unnecessary for you to go and stay with my parents."

Molly gave him a weary look. "Sherlock we've been over this several times already. It was nice; I enjoyed my time with them. And I think it did make it easier. It was good to be around those who knew you were still alive."

He gave another sniff and spun back around. John watched as she rolled her eyes before letting out an almost silent sigh.

"Touchy subject?" he mouthed to her.

She nodded, stepped closer to him and spoke in a whisper, "Mycroft never told him of his intentions. Sherlock didn't know I had stayed with his parents until after he came back. He felt as if Mycroft over-stepped his boundaries. He was just being nice, yes; shockingly enough Mycroft is capable of being nice. Must be Anthea's influence on him."

Sherlock started to play a melody on his violin.

John's mouth dropped open once more. "Anthea? Mycroft and Anthea? The woman who is always tapping away on her blackberry?" he whispered, albeit a bit louder than Molly's whisper had been.

She nodded."Mhmm."

Sherlock struck a wrong note on his violin. "Will you two please stop discussing the fact that my brother has found himself a goldfish? It's impeding upon my playing," he spat out.

Molly bit back a smile. "Another touchy subject," she spoke this without moving her lips. She cleared her throat before speaking in a louder tone, "Why don't you bring Mary over for dinner sometime this week? Perhaps Friday night? I'll cook. I know his mum and dad would love to meet you both. Isn't that right Sherlock?"

He turned on his heel, fixing her with a withering gaze. "You cannot be serious."

"I am. Sherlock, they deserve to meet him, and Mary. Your parents hardly ever come up to London. Maybe Mycroft can come as well?"

Sherlocked looked appalled. "Oh good Lord."

She let out a laugh. "Agree to it, or I won't shag you for an entire week!"

John wished he was anywhere but there at that moment. Sherlock only muttered under his breath, his cheeks turning faintly pink as he put down his violin, before tugging his dressing gown tightly around himself and plopping down in his chair. He proceeded to pout.

"Fine," he hissed.

Molly flashed a triumphant smile before turning to John. "Will Friday work for you?"

John cleared his throat before answering, "I'll ask Mary, but I don't think we have anything planned."

"Alright, text me and let me know!"

* * *

 

Molly had outdone herself. She always enjoyed cooking, but tonight she had really gone rather over-the-top. Well, that's what Sherlock told her. She secretly knew that he was rather pleased with her cooking endeavors. Even though the man had a tendency to go for days without a meal while working on a case, he had an inexplicable weakness for anything that she cooked or baked. The night that she moved into Baker Street she made Pasta Fagioli for dinner and upon his first bite, he instantly swore that he would not skip a meal whenever she cooked, case or not. John would have told him that he was whipped, if John had had any inkling of the matter that is.

"Spare a moment?" Sherlock stepped into the kitchen, sidling up to her.

"Hmmm? For what?" she asked, putting down the wooden spoon she was holding.

"For this," he answered, grabbing her about the waist and spinning her so that he could pull her against him for a spontaneous snog.

She let out a breathless laugh when he released her. "What was that for?"

"Do I need to give a reason for wanting to kiss you?" he asked, not loosening his hold on her.

She placed her hands on his shoulders. "I'm not cancelling tonight."

His bottom lip protruded. "Damn."

She shook her head, stepping out of his embrace. "One little snog will not make me change my mind, Sherlock."

She returned to stirring the fresh tomato sauce she was making. He crossed his arms over his chest and grumbled beneath his breath. It would be a matter of minutes before he had settled himself into a full-blown sulk.

"It's just dinner Sherlock, you'll survive," she said. "You never know, it could even be fun!"

A loud humph was the only reply she was given.

"If you behave, I'll wear to bed that silk negligee you like," she spoke this in a bit of a sing-song tone.

When he didn't respond she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was stood stock-still, staring, and unblinking. She suppressed the urge to let out a snort, knowing that he was most certainly in his Mind Palace.

"Thinking good thoughts?" she muttered, turning back to the pot.

"Mmm …  _very_  good thoughts."

She was shocked that he answered her. Suddenly he turned and looked at her with a wide smile.

"You have a deal Doctor Hooper," he said.

He gave her a tender kiss, and she proceeded to give his arse a good smack with the back of her hand as he exited the kitchen.

An hour later everyone arrived. Siger and Violet were talking amiably with John and Mary. Siger and John were busy sharing army stories whilst Violet and Mary were talking about babies. Violet had little Scarlett in her arms, cooing and tickling her chubby cheeks. Scarlett was clearly taken with her, cooing back and giggling happily. Mycroft and Sherlock were stood off to the side, both with expressions of disdain upon their faces.

"Behave!" Molly hissed beneath her breath to Sherlock. "And Mycroft, I'll call Anthea and tell her that your mother begged for you two to give her a grandchild."

The British Government's eyes bulged. He swallowed thickly then moved forward to join the party, smiling as amiably as he could manage. Sherlock smirked, but that quickly faded when he noticed Molly glaring at him. With a sigh he too stepped forward, joining his mother and father upon the sofa.

After dinner had been eaten, and praises sung to Molly, they all retired back into the main room. Violet Holmes was settled comfortably once more upon the sofa, passing around photos of Sherlock as a baby, a toddler, a young boy, and a teenager. Molly had seen most of these already when she'd stayed with Violet and Siger, having spent considerable time with Violet perusing over photo albums of the two Holmes boys. She kept her comments and giggles in check, although both John and Mary didn't hold back.

As Violet held out a particular photo, Sherlock's eyes became frozen wide in horror. Molly knew that he was nearing the tipping point, so she made the move to go refill her wine glass. When she passed by him, she ducked down her head and whispered into his ear, "Silk negligee."

His eyebrows shot up, the tips of his ears turning a faint pink. With a triumphant smile she continued on into the kitchen, grateful that no one had seemed to notice the exchange.

A short while later, after tea and dessert had been partaken of, the Watson's and the elder Holmes' took their leave. Mycroft had left long ago, but not before Molly had given him a small tin of the cookies that he liked.

The moment the door closed behind their visitors, Sherlock hoisted Molly into his arms and carried her into their bedroom, kicking the door shut. Her flats had fallen off of her feet when he had picked her up, and he toed off his own shoes, prior to dropping her down onto the mattress. Leaning down he peeled off his socks before joining her on the bed.

She was quite used to his eagerness, helping him to remove her blouse and bra. Once both articles were tossed to the floor he cupped one breast with his hand, latching his mouth onto the other.

"But what about my negligee?" she asked her voice tinged with mock-concern.

"That would be nothing more than a hindrance right now," he replied thickly, removing her trousers in one swift movement.

When he noticed that she wasn't wearing any knickers, he let out a very audible groan. She chuckled, cradling the sides of his face with her hands so that she could pull him down to her for a kiss. He kissed her back forcefully, struggling to remove his own trousers. She laughed again when he let out an exasperated noise.

"Here, let me." She gave him a gentle push.

He rolled onto his back and she sat up. Quickly and deftly she had his trousers unbuttoned and unzipped. He lifted his hips so that she could tug both the trousers and his pants down. As soon as she threw them to the floor he grabbed her and pulled her on top of him. He let out a satisfied sigh against her lips when her naked body became pressed against his own.

"Told you, you'd survive!" she declared.

He let out a low growl. "Only thanks to you, and that lovely little image of you in that ridiculous scrap of silk fabric." He rolled them until she was the one on her back; he was gazing down upon her, drinking in the sight of her bare form.

"Is that how you do it?" she questioned, bringing her hands to rest on his shoulders.

His brow furrowed. "Do what?"

"Get through annoying situations, you think of me?"

"Mmm … generally yes," he admitted. "Tonight though, I should have used Naked Mind Palace Molly, that would have been a much better choice."

She felt her face turn bright red. "So that's what you're thinking of when your eyes become unfocused? Unbelievable."

He gave her a cheeky grin. "It's not my fault that your body is so …  _delectable_." He dropped his head and dragged the tip of his tongue down through the hollow between her breasts, not stopping until he reached her navel, giving her skin a nip with his teeth.

"Absolutely incorrigible," she hissed out, her fingertips digging into his shoulders.

He chuckled, the sound rumbling against her. He placed a kiss over the slightly red mark he made then pulled himself back up, hovering over her.

She dug her nails slightly into his skin. "Perhaps I should invite your parents and Mycroft to dinner more often!"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed to slits. "Don't. You. Dare."

Molly tried to fight back a smile, but didn't succeed. "I'm just teasing you." She moved her hands up to his curls, giving them a not-too-gentle tug.

He growled again, capturing her lips with his own in order to make sure that she didn't spout any more ridiculous ideas. She kissed him back hungrily, hooking her leg up over his hip, bringing her ankle to rest on the small of his back.

Now this was an idea he could agree with. He slipped his hand down between them, wrapping his fingers around his aching erection in order to line himself up with her welcoming, eager body. She sighed against his lips as he slid into her with ease.

He kept his movements slow at first; filing away every noise that she made and each sensation that their joined bodies created as he thrust into her at a leisurely pace. But when she began to lift up her hips to meet his, clearly desperate for more, he quickly complied.

"Yes!" she gasped out, digging her nails into the skin of his back, holding onto him tightly as he increased the speed and harshness of his thrusts.

Neither one of them lasted for much longer, the pair of them climaxing noisily; they were never the type to be silent while making love. His entire body shuddered against hers as she continued to hold him close.

When his breathing gradually grew a bit steadier, he rolled to the side pulling her with him to keep her body near to his. They kissed lazily, gazing into each other's eyes.

"I think I'm going to have to ask your mother to send me a copy of that photo of you dressed as a pirate," she said to him, brushing her fingertips over his jaw line. "So adorable. It should be framed, and hung on the wall."

His eyes returned to narrow slits. "Do that and I won't shag you for a month!"

A guttural laugh escaped her, bubbling up through her throat. "Stealing my tactics are you?"

He exhaled loudly before pushing her down onto her back so that he could place a bite directly over her pulse point. She hitched in a breath, clutching tightly to his biceps as he lapped at her tender flesh with his tongue.

Perhaps framing the photo was a bit much, but she was definitely going to ask for a copy of it, at least to wave it in front of him when he was being particularly arse-like. Oh yes, being on very friendly terms with Sherlock's mother had its benefits!

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hehe ... be sure to let me know what you think! :D


End file.
